Just Keep Crawling
by AceOfDaimonds
Summary: Four Bhaalspawn. Four destinies. Four hells. Four friends. This is their story. Crappy summary, I know...
1. Savior

**Disclaimer-**_I don't own the Greenday song. I don't own Sarevok, Tamoko, Imoen, Gorion, or anything else from the game. Bree is mine, however, and so is Karl, so please don't steal them, or I will have to eat you. There are also a lot of made up characters who are only in a couple parts of the story...go ahead and steal them, most of them are jerks._

_Ok, this is basically a story about 4 Bhaalspawn; Sarevok, Karl, Imoen, and Bree. They all go through their own personal hell (well, Imoen's not too bad off...), and they all either know each other or meet each other. Karl basically goes through the normal experience with Gorion, with only a few differences. Um...this is just some idea I randomly had one day, so...it's a little weird, but interesting...I guess._

Here are their ages... Karl-7, Sarevok-8 Bree-6, Imoen-5

**Savior**

_**I walk a lonely road**_

_**The only one that I have ever known**_

_**Don't know where it goes**_

_**But it's only me and I walk alone **_

"You're worthless! Pathetic! You'll never be anything! I offered to teach you, the least you could have done was tried! Worm! Cretin!" the tirade of insults went on and on, each curse lessening Karl's belief in his own capabilities. With every whimper he mentally berated himself; he had failed the spell, had failed his mother. It was supposed to be simple. She had said it would be simple; say the words, harness the energy, and shape it into a candle. He had failed. He wasn't smart enough, and now he paid the price.

A painful blow sent him sprawling against the wall. Alianna stared at him, unable to control her frustration. When she learned she would be birthing a son of Bhaal, she had expected a powerful child, one who would make her proud. After all, she _was_ one of the most powerful, favored high priestesses of Bhaal. Her brethren would have expected a remarkable child, and instead she had birthed a small, seemingly frail boy.

Training him as a warrior would have been pointless; he was only 7, but it was obvious that he would never truly excel in combat. Karl was small, pale, and often sick. He was shy and quiet, never questioning anyone. At first, Alianna had believed his lack of strength and stamina would be compensated for by his mind. Perhaps, she had thought, he would excel as a mage or even a priest of Bhaal. The thought had pleased her, and yet Karl showed no aptitude for mastering spells or any of the arcane arts.

And so, he was her shame. A child of the Lord of Murder, yes, but nothing like the other Children. Melissan, the most favored and powerful high priestess, had ordered that all of the Children be taught to fight or cast spells, no matter how young they were. She believed, and the other followers of Bhaal agreed, that the Children should be powerful, unstoppable.

Tresta, another of the high priestesses, had birthed twins, each of them only 8 years old and already able to cast second level spells. Gailla had raised her son, Sarevok, and he was already one of the strongest, most skilled fighters. Other children even younger than Karl had developed skills that made them worthy of the title of 'Bhaalspawn'.

And Karl, son of one of the most respected priestesses, was nothing but a weak, stupid boy. Alianna sighed and turned her back on the shaking child, walking out of the room without a backward glance.

Several minutes later Karl slowly stood up and walked shakily to the small scroll Alianna had told him to recite from. He fingered it gently and bit his lip, determined to cast the spell. After all, he had to make his mother proud.

* * *

Bree watched her mother, Dinah, talking with Melissan, the most important high priestess. She fingered the two small dolls in her hand, then looked around for any potential playmates, hardly noticing the strange, gory designs on the numerous paintings and alters to Bhaal. Aside from her mother and the priestess, the room was empty. The little girl heard a small cry come from another room, and she turned towards it. A red-haired boy, several years older than her, was fighting with another boy. She yawned again and headed towards the room, watching as the two older children fought with their wooden swords. 

The red-haired boy took another blow, the other boy's wooden sword hitting him heavily on the side. The redhead backed away, breathing heavily. Bree looked at the other boy, who was slightly shorter than the redhead. The boy had shaggy black hair that went just past his ears. He noticed Bree looking at him and he glanced at her. She gasped as she saw his eyes; they were a bright, sparkling yellow.

"All right, that's enough for now." a short, plump man with a bright red face called out, stepping between the two boys. "Sarevok, you're attacks are improving, but you need to focus on defense." the yellow-eyed boy nodded and handed his sword to the man. "Darg, remember to stay on your toes, and focus more on blocking his attacks. You may go, now."

Darg glared at Sarevok and headed out of the room, scowling. The short-haired man placed the wooden swords on a rack on the wall, then also headed out. Sarevok glanced at the little girl, who was still watching him. She smiled and waved, as if he was her best friend.

Bree nearly skipped over to him, delighted with his bright yellow eyes. "Hi!" she said brightly, standing in front of him and cocking her head to the side. "I like your eyes."

Sarevok grinned slightly, looking down at her. "I like your hair," he said sincerely. She was fairly normal looking, except for her long, silver hair.

Bree grinned back. "I'm Bree. What's your name?"

"Sarevok."

"Sarv...Servo...Serev...um..." she struggled with his name, her small face scrunched up with the effort. "Sary...Saery...Sarry..." she stopped, frowning. Then she suddenly looked up at him brightly and smiled again. "Can I call you...Sarry?"

Sarevok grinned at the adorable little girl. "I...guess so. What's your name?"

"I'm Bree." she looked down at her small dolls and blushed, biting her lip. "Um...would you...do you...wanna play with me?"

He blanched. Play _dolls_? She wanted him to play _dolls_? "Uh...well..."

She peered at him hopefully with two big black eyes. "Please? Pleeease?"

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open. "Er...I..." the eyes got even bigger, pleading with him. "Um...ok!"

She gave a squeal of delight and handed him the boy doll. "Yay! Here, you can have Prince Timmy. I'll have Princess Crystal."

He looked down at the doll blankly. "Um...ok. Er...what do we...do?"

She sat down and smiled at him. "Well, Timmy has to save Crystal from the monster, and then they fall in love."

Sarevok blinked and sat down next to Bree. "They...do?"

"Yep! Now, this is where Crystal is trapped, so Timmy has to climb up and save her!" Bree placed Crystal on the weapon rack and looked at Sarevok with happy, expectant eyes.

He sighed, then set about rescuing the 'princess' from the 'monster'...or, as most people called it, the wooden axe on the weapon rack.

* * *

Frieda smiled as she cradled the sleeping Imoen in her lap. She brushed a stray lock of brown hair from the little girl's face and slowly stood up, heading for the small bedroom. She placed Imoen in the bed and crawled in next to her, not hearing the front door open. As she drifted off to sleep she once again pictured the tall, handsome man she had given herself to, the man who had sired this wonderful little girl and then vanished, as if he'd never even existed. 

Imoen smacked her lips in her sleep, probably dreaming about the wonderful cake Frieda had made for the girl's birthday. The ingredients had cost a near fortune, but the look of delight on the child's face had made the cost of the ingredients seem unimportant. Frieda had worked to make the girl's birthday particularly special. She had invited all of the neighborhood children, though Imoen hardly knew any of them. Despite her invitations, however, no one had come to the small, cramped building Frieda and Imoen called home.

And so, Frieda had made the cake. And, as Frieda thought about that beautiful, expensive cake with its frosty white layers and the pretty pink icing, she began to suddenly crave cake. She climbed out of the bed and went to the kitchen, the only other room in the house. She cut herself a tiny slice and chewed slowly, savoring the sweet sugar.

She never even suspected that something was amiss. She never heard the quiet step of the man behind her, and she never felt the rush of air as his knife sliced through the air and into her neck.

* * *

"Your child would please our lord, and your offering will only increase your favor with him. Do you accept?" 

_As if I have a choice._ Alianna thought bitterly as she looked into Melissan's eyes. It was not the prospect of killing her child that displeased her; no, Alianna would do anything to please her lord, and Karl was more of a nuisance than anything else. It was the implied insult in Melissan's words that made Alianna's blood boil. Melissan chose Karl as one of the sacrifices because he was weak and showed little potential. The high priestess might as well have said, 'You've created a nearly worthless child, so would you mind killing him since we don't want him?'

"Of course. Whatever my lord desires." Alianna bowed slightly to the high priestess. "When will the sacrifice take place? And are their going to be other Children?"

Melissan stared at her uncaringly, as if trying to decide whether or not Alianna was worth the effort of talking to. Finally, she answered, "The ceremony will not take place for two months. There are certain...preparations that must be made. There will be other Children, yes."

"Who?"

The favored high priestess seemed annoyed by Alianna's questions. "We will wait until our lord decides. There will be five Children, two of which have already been decided. Your son, and Dinah's daughter. The others have not been chosen yet."

Alianna seemed slightly surprised. "Dinah's child? I thought she showed potential...?"

"She does, but our master desires her as a sacrifice. Do you questions his will?" her tone was vaguely amused, yet carried the hint of a threat.

"No, of course not." Alianna said hurriedly. Melissan smiled coldly and left, her tall form seeming to meld with the surrounding shadows of the temple's dark corridors. Alianna clenched her fists, then smiled grimly. _At least,_ she thought, _I won't have to worry about teaching the brat._

She had scarcely digested that comforting thought when Karl came running into the room, pale face flushed with pride. "Look, mother!" he cried, slowly working his fingers in an intricate pattern as he said the words of a spell. Alianna watched as he created a small candle of magic, floating just above his fingers.

Alianna scowled and turned on her heel, striding out of the room. Karl let the candle blink out of existence and stared after her, confused. Why wasn't she proud?

* * *

"Found you!" Bree cried happily, spotting Sarevok under the table. "Now it's your turn." 

Sarevok crawled out from under the table and grinned at the silver-haired girl. "All right. I'll count to fifteen."

She nodded and ran for a closet as he closed his eyes and counted. He had just reached ten when Dinah came into the room, opening the closet and scowling at her child. The moon elf grabbed Bree by the arm and hauled her out of the closet, muttering things no child should hear. "It's almost time for your lessons, girl! Why aren't you ready?!"

Bree looked at the ground and bit her lip. "I...I was...was..."

Dinah shook the girl roughly. "Spit it out, fool!"

Sarevok saw the sparkle of tears forming in Bree's eyes, and he stepped forward. "It was my fault, my lady." he said, bowing to the priestess. He may have only been eight, but respect was thoroughly beaten into every child at the temple. "She was showing me, uh," he searched his mind for an excuse. Every child was taught an array of skills, but what was Bree being taught...? Not fighting skills, he knew, and he doubted she would be learning magic...but what was she learning? Suddenly it hit him; Bree was nearly invisible in the dark, despite her silver hair. "She was showing me how to hide in the shadows. I haven't learned that, yet, and I asked her to show me how to-"

She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "Is this true?"

Bree hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, mother, it's true."

Dinah scowled but let the subject drop. "Very well. Hurry up and prepare for your lessons. If you're late again I won't let it slide."

"Yes, mother." Bree nodded, and Dinah strode swiftly out of the room. Bree smiled at Sarevok, but he could tell that her smile was forced. "Thanks, Sarry."

He shrugged, somehow disturbed by Dinah's rough treatment of Bree. "No problem. Uh...do you need help getting ready?'

She shook her head. "No." Suddenly she looked at him quizzically. "Sarry, what does 'fucking' mean?"

* * *

The man pulled his knife out of Frieda's neck and let her body fall out of the chair. He looked around the shabby room, disappointed by the severe lack of anything valuable. He went into the bedroom and found a few coppers in a small jar next to the bed. He nearly screamed in surprise when he heard a quiet sigh from the bed. Leaning over, he saw a tiny girl sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by his presence. 

He raised his blade, then hesitated. She looked so peaceful, so innocent...and she was no threat. If she woke, the most she could do was cry. Besides, his work was done; the house held almost nothing of value. He sighed and completed his search of the house, then left, leaving only a corpse and a sleeping child as witnesses.

The next day a passing neighbor noticed the strange, unrecognizable odor coming from the house. Looking in, his mouth dropped at the sight of a young girl, sobbing and curled up next to her cold, staring mother.

* * *

_**Two Months Later...**_

* * *

"What does it do?" Karl asked, fingering the small vial his mother handed him. It was filled with a dark purple liquid and was hot to the touch.

"It will clear your mind, help you sleep." Alianna lied, watching her son expressionlessly. "Drink it, child."

Karl did as his mother commanded, grimacing at the vile, almost intolerably hot liquid and looking out the window, trying to ignore the taste. "It tastes ba..." he stopped suddenly, moving a shaking hand to his throat. "Mo...moth...er..." His entire body trembled violently as he felt a cold, numbing sensation spread through his limbs. The last thing he saw before everything went black was a group of fiery clouds, wreathing the setting sun like some bloody halo.

Alianna stood over her son's still form and slowly picked him up, heading for the sacrificial chamber.

* * *

Sarevok stood horrified in the room, staring at the three Children already tied down to the alter. He watched numbly as Alianna carried her son in. Melissan and a priest wearing black armor tied the limp boy down. Already many of the worshippers of Bhaal had gathered in the room, and any children at least six years old stood in a small group. Sarevok looked at a girl next to him, her brown eyes shining with anticipation, and shuddered. 

He looked through the group of children, feeling a sudden desire to find Bree and get her out of there. He didn't want her to see this. He searched through the group, feeling a sudden wild panic well up when he didn't find her. "Bree?" he whispered quietly, knowing he would be punished if he disrupted the quiet stillness of the room. A girl glanced at him curiously, then looked back at the alter with a frightened expression. "Bree?" he said again, this time slightly louder and more urgently.

"Shh!" he turned to the redhead who had shushed him, then scowled as he realized in was Darg. The boy frowned at him and turned away.

Sarevok was on the verge of screaming Bree's name when he heard Melissan's voice. "Go and get your daughter. The ceremony starts soon."

Sarevok peered over the head of another girl, paling as he saw who Melissan was talking to. Dinah nodded and bowed to the priestess, then turned and headed for her quarters. Sarevok stared, open-mouthed, in shock. Bree...they were going to sacrifice Bree...he backed against the wall as the image of the little girl's bloody body entered his mind.

He trembled, staring after Dinah. If he interfered, his life would be forfeit. He understood that, and yet... Sarevok turned and looked at the door only a foot to his right. He stood frozen to the spot when a sudden cry made him jump. The potion all of the 'chosen' had been given was beginning to wear off, and a little girl had snapped out of her limp stupor. She struggled against the ropes holding her down and began screaming, sobbing.

Sarevok looked at the girl, then suddenly replaced her with the image of Bree, struggling against the alter. He shook his head and mouthed the word 'no', then slipped unnoticed out of the door.

* * *

Bree yawned and stretched out on her tiny bed, not really caring where her mother was. She and Sarevok had spent almost the entire day playing games, and she was completely exhausted.

She was had just drifted off to sleep when the creak of the door opening woke her up. She watched her mother enter the room, a cruel smile on the moon elf's face.

"Mother? What's that?" she pointed at the small vial of dark purple liquid in her mother's hand.

"This? It's called a potion. It will change your hair color."

She furrowed her small brow as Dinah drew closer. "But I don't want to change my hair."

Dinah sat down on the bed, lips twitching in amusement as Bree drew away. "Don't worry, it only lasts for an hour."

Bree blinked, confused by her mother's sudden hint of affection. "Will it...hurt?"

Dinah laughed lightly and popped the cork off, handing her daughter the vial. "Of course not."

Bree sniffed the liquid, then turned to the side, coughing at the foul odor. Her eyes watered as she gagged, and she didn't notice Dinah's eager look. She also didn't notice Sarevok creep into the room, clutching the small but sharp dagger he had been taught to keep in his boot.

As he entered the room he nearly passed out when he noticed Bree hadn't taken the potion yet. The girl was coughing hard and holding the vial in her hand. Dinah was sitting on the bed with her back to the door, Bree's coughing masking the sound of Sarevok stepping into the room.

Sarevok stepped up behind Dinah, shaking. He gripped the dagger tightly, sweat making his hand slippery. He took a shuddering breath suddenly realizing that the only way to help Bree was...to kill Dinah. The realization hit him like a physical blow, making him gasp.

The sound alerted Dinah, who whirled around to face the young boy, holding a dagger and standing not a foot away. Her hand gripped the hilt of a dagger and pulled it out just as Bree noticed Sarevok. She smiled and cried, "Sarry!"

Dinah whipped out the dagger, but as she did so Bree jumped up to greet her friend, spilling some of the hot liquid onto her mother's hand. Dinah cried out and dropped the dagger, almost immediately recovering and casting a spell. She never finished, however, because the last words of the spell became a sickening gurgle as Sarevok's dagger entered her chest.

* * *

A scream pierced the silence of the sacrificial room, this one not coming from any of the children tied to the alter. It was a scream of horror and pain, causing everyone in the room to momentarily freeze.

Melissan turned to a high priest. "Go find out what happened!" she ordered, and the priest, several black-armored guards at his heels, left the room.

A heartbeat after they left, a sudden, screeching alarm went off, the signal that the temple was being invaded.

* * *

"Sa...Sarry?" Bree whispered, looking from her mother's unmoving body to her brother, big black eyes horrified and confused. Sarevok trembled as he pulled the blade out, wincing as Dinah made a small, choked sigh before the light left her eyes. He winced again as he saw that some of her blood had spattered onto Bree's silver hair.

"I...she was...going...she...kill...going to...she..." he stammered the words, unable to take his gaze away from Dinah's lifeless eyes, no longer sparkling with malice. He ignored the tear that slid down his cheek as he looked at her. His first kill.

Bree was shaking, but she stepped towards the boy and placed her small hand in his larger one. "S...Sarry, why-?"

He looked at her and tried to think of something to say when the door burst open and a priest stepped in, backed by three guards. Sarevok felt another tear slip out as he realized that this was the end.

The priest stared at Dinah, shocked. Then, slowly, his gaze slid to Sarevok, who had stepped in front of Bree. "You...you little-." He was interrupted by a cry from behind as a long, graceful katana sliced into one of the guards. A faint sizzle in the air was the only warning any of them had before an arc of lighting entered the room. The guards and priest got the brunt of the attack, but little tendrils of lightning hit the two children and sent them flying backwards. Sarevok was thrown into the window, which shattered in a storm of glittering glass and let Sarevok land several feet away from the window, stunned. Bree was sent flying into the bed and knocked her head sharply against the wooden side, causing her to slump unconscious to the floor.

A short, bloody battle took place in the hallway, ending with a single woman mage blasting the life out of her companions and enemies both. She stood, an arrogant smile sliding over her face as she saw the carnage her latest spell had caused. She stepped into the room and noticed the little silver-haired girl lying limp against the bed. She arched one brow, then turned away and began searching the room for valuables. She finished looting, then was about to leave when a thought hit her.

She looked back at the little girl, thinking. A Bhaalspawn...and, from her features and hair, she was most likely partly elven...the woman grinned and placed her hand on the girl, murmuring a teleportation spell.

Sarevok crawled back to the shattered window, ignoring the shards of glass stuck in his bruised body. He reached the window just in time to see a woman begin a spell. The woman picked up Bree and stepped into a magical doorway just as he screamed, "Wait!"

He slumped back as she left, apparently not hearing him. He trembled and stared at where his little sister had just been. "Bree..." he whispered, then swallowed and turned away from the room, limping away from the temple.

* * *

Alianna stood in front of the alter with a struggling Karl tied to it. A man wearing dark grey robes stood in front of her, wielding his glowing staff with the precision of a seasoned warrior. She dodged one attack, then another, then hit him with a blast of cold. He, in turn, cast a surprisingly powerful spell, sending an array of tiny, acid-tipped darts at Alianna. She gasped in pain as several hit her, immediately pumping acid into her blood. She twitched spasmodically and tried to cast a spell, but a sudden burst of flames from the man's staff and hit her directly in the face. She screamed, then abruptly fell silent as his staff cracked down on her skull. She whispered Bhaal's name as she felt her body seem to grow cold and numb, indifferent to any pain. The man's staff came down again and her vision went blurry, dark. One final blow and she felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing, became nothing.

Gorion watched the light leave the priestess' eyes with grim satisfaction, then turned to the quickly ending battle around him. His companions were either dying or teleporting out of the room. They were desperately outmatched by the followers of Bhaal, and the battle was almost over. Several priests saw him standing near the altars and came running in his direction.

"Help! Please! Please, help!" Gorion turned to the boy tied to the alter, struggling with all his might and looking at him pleadingly. He hesitated. A Bhaalspawn...what would he do...? Abruptly he made a decision, laying his hand on the frail boy and uttering a teleportation spell, feeling the world fall away as everything was swallowed in white light.

* * *

"Shh, it's alright. You'll be alright." Gerta murmured to the small girl in her arms, who had been sobbing for the past two hours. "What...happened, exactly?"

The man standing in front of Gerta shifted. "I just found her lying next to her mother. I...didn't know where else to take her. She's a sweet girl, she doesn't belong out on the streets. I...I can't look after her, I can barely feed my family, but...I know you and Dale have always wanted a child...so..."

Gerta nodded, stroking the girl's hair. "I see. Poor, poor baby." she murmured to the sobbing girl. "We make good money off of the inn, we can certainly afford to take care of her. Do you...know her name?"

He nodded. "Imoen. Frieda called her Imoen."

"Imoen." Gerta whispered soothingly. "Shh, shh, everything's going to be okay, Imoen." the man turned to leave, and Gerta carried the child into her room. "Dale? Dale!" her husband entered the room, looking with surprise at the crying little girl. Gerta rocked Imoen back and forth, rubbing her back. "Dale...we need to talk about something."

_Well, there's the beginning...please review, I'd like to know if this is any good so far...Also, please let me know if I misspelled any names._


	2. New Families

_Um...what do I say? Oh, thanks for the reviews! Now what do I say...? How about...I OWN BALDUR'S GATE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Blasphemy, I know. So...oh, in this story Karl remembers Alianna and his 'life before Gorion', as the game puts it. So...er...bye?_

_Wait, I'm not done! Um...this chapter has just a tiny bit of badness. Just a very tiny bit. Oh, and I randomly decided to put a younger Keldorn in this chapter...I don't know why, I just made a paladin and decided to name him Keldorn. Oh, and this chapter isn't all that eventful or exciting, it's just sort of an introduction into their new lives. __Okay, now I'm done..._

**New Families**

**_I walk this empty street_**

**_On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams_**

**_When the city sleeps_**

**_And I'm the only one and I walk alone_**

Karl-7, Sarevok-8, Bree-6, Imoen-5

Sarevok had nearly lost sight of the temple when there was a blinding flash of light not ten feet in front of him. Two people, a man and a woman, appeared out of thin air, both of them covered in blood.

The woman was the first to notice the boy. "Who...are you?"

Sarevok didn't respond, he just stared at them. The man stepped forward, glancing at the numerous trickles of blood on Sarevok, products of the shattered glass window. "Are you from the temple, boy?"

"I..." Sarevok stopped, unsure of whether or not to trust the people who had invaded his recent home. "I...yes." he whispered, preparing for death.

The man cocked his head to the side, sizing Sarevok up. "You're too young to be a priest...you're a...Bhaalspawn, aren't you?"

"Yes." Once they reached a certain age, usually eight or nine, every child was informed of their lineage, though it meant little to them.

The woman pulled her hair out of its bun and let it fall around her, reaching nearly to the ground. "Well, Bhaalspawn, do you have a name?"

Sarevok blinked. They...weren't going to kill him? "I'm...Sarevok. I'm...looking for my sister."

The woman arched one brow. "Well, kid, I'm Kiera, and this is Reiltar. You're looking for your sister, you say?"

"Y-yes. A lady took her through..." he struggled to remember the term. "A...portal, I think."

"There are numerous people who could have taken your sister, boy." Reiltar said uncaringly, still sizing up Sarevok. "Forget about her."

Sarevok didn't answer, just narrowed his eyes and looked away.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Finally Kiera spoke. "Where are you going, Sarevok?"

"I..." he trembled, the reality of the past few hours finally hitting him full force and filling his eyes with tears. "I don't know. I don't know..."

Kiera smiled kindly and handed him a vial of blue liquid. "Here. Drink this, kid, it will heal your cuts."

He looked at her suspiciously, remembering the vial Bree had almost taken. "I...I don't trust you." he said simply, feeling slightly foolish.

Reiltar seemed amused. "Oh, you don't? Why not?"

He shrugged, feeling vaguely like Reiltar was testing him. "Why should I?"

Reiltar nodded, as if reaching some private decision. "Yes. Exactly. Why should you? You shouldn't, you know."

Sarevok frowned at him, slightly confused. "What-?"

Kiera interrupted, looking back at the temple, now just a dark outline against the night sky. "Look, Sarevok, you don't have to trust us or anything, but...do you want to come with us?"

He looked from one kind face to one cold one, blinking. "Where?"

Reiltar spoke, "I'm going to Baldur's Gate. Have you heard of it?" Sarevok nodded. "Good. Kiera is going to Candlekeep, a...library south of Baldur's Gate. Have you heard of it?" Sarevok shook his head.

Kiera smiled and stretched. "Well, it's a long journey. Many days, on horseback. Fortunately, I have teleports. Do you wish to come?"

Sarevok just stared, unsure. "I...don't know. What will I do, once we get there?"

Reiltar seemed vaguely surprised by the question. "What will you-? Whatever you want, boy. You can come with one of us, or go on your own, whatever you wish."

Kiera lifted one brow questioningly. "The Iron Throne would take him in?"

"Of course. He'd hardly be a detriment."

She shrugged. "Whatever. So, what'll it be, kid?"

He just stared at the ground, unwilling to put his life in the hands of these two people. Closing his eyes, he sighed and spoke. "I...guess so." he said quietly, suddenly feeling like he was making the worst mistake ever.

Kiera grinned and clapped him on the back, not noticing the way he flinched away from her. "Great! All right, kid, you'll love Candlekeep. Even if you don't stay there. Say, is there something shorter to call you than 'Sarevok'? Honestly, I don't know how you sign stuff." he blinked at her. "How about...Servo?"

He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head, now thoroughly confused.

"Dang. How about...Sarry? It's kinda-"

"Don't call me that." he said automatically, feeling a twinge of unexplainable anger well up inside.

"No? How about-"

"Can we just _go _already?" Reiltar said impatiently, scowling at his childish companion.

"Oh, fine." she began the spell, and again Sarevok felt Reiltar's probing eyes on him.

* * *

Gorion and the still-screaming Karl reappeared in the middle of the forest surrounding the temple. Gorion clamped his hand over the boy's mouth, since he was unsure of how far away from the temple they were. Karl struggled, of course, but Gorion held him firmly until he relaxed somewhat. 

"Who...who are you?" the boy asked once Gorion's hand was gone.

"My name is Gorion."

There was a long silence. Karl looked around warily, as if expecting the priests to burst from the forest around them. When a good five minutes had passed without any sudden attacks, Karl looked back at Gorion. The man's age was hard to determine, but the grey in his hair and beard were a clear hint.. His face was long and thin, with a bony, slightly crooked nose and slight crinkles around his eyes and mouth, giving him a stern appearance. He had black hair, now streaked with pale grey and white. Gorion was tall, not too muscular, and wearing dark grey robes. He held a staff with a large sapphire on one end, and he smelled particularly foul. But what really caught Karl's attention was the man's eyes; they were almond shaped and appeared slightly slanted, and were the deepest, iciest grey Karl had ever seen.

The silence stretched on, lasting several more minutes. Gorion fished through his pockets, pulling out a foul-smelling lump of something brown, and placed it on the ground in front of him. Then Gorion looked at Karl expectantly, as if waiting. The boy shifted, then mumbled, "My name is Karl."

Gorion nodded, looking at him speculatively. Karl looked away, uncomfortable with the man's piercing grey eyes. "Karl, why were you on that alter?"

He stiffened at the blunt question and looked at Gorion, open-mouthed. The man didn't look suspicious or cruel, however. He just appeared...curious. And concerned. "I...my...my mother...put me there."

His voice cracked and he turned away, unwilling to let this man see him cry. A moment later he felt Gorion's hand on his shoulder. "I...am sorry."

He trembled and let one tear slip out. "You...you killed her." he wasn't sure if her was angry, sad, or relieved. "You _killed_ her..."

"I had no choice, Karl. I am truly sorry." Karl heard only sincerity in Gorion's voice. "It is...difficult to lose a loved one." he wiped his eyes and turned back to the man, startled to see that Gorion's stern face had softened into a look of sympathy and honest regret.

They stood in silence again, until Gorion finally spoke. "Karl...who was your father?"

Karl shrugged. "I...don't know. Mother never talked about him."

Gorion nodded slowly, digesting this information; he had a motherless, homeless Bhaalspawn who didn't even know he _was_ a Bhaalspawn. Gorion sighed. "I...have an idea, Karl, though you are not obligated to agree." he continued before the boy could ask what 'obligated' meant. "I live with other mages in a library called Candlekeep. If you desire it, you may stay there. You will be given food, a home, an education...and a chance to see more of the Realms. I often travel in order to acquire spellbooks or rare scrolls, and I would be willing to take you with me. What do you say?"

Karl blinked at the man. They had just met, and yet he was offering him a home, a life... Karl bit his lip. "I...don't know how to do anything. I can't do anything. I can't work, if that's what you-"

Gorion waved his hand dismissively. "You will not need to do any work, aside from perhaps studying. And," he added, looking down his nose at Karl, "I seriously doubt that you 'can't do anything'."

"I...ok, I'll...come with you, I guess."

"Excellent." the mage said, picking up the lump of brown stuff. "Now, if you'll hold on for a moment, I will teleport us to Candlekeep..."

* * *

"It's all right with me, but...are you sure about this? I mean, she _saw _her own mother's body, love. She could easily be scarred for life-" 

Gerta interrupted her handsome, concerned husband. "I know, but...we can't just abandon her, Dale. She needs a home, and we can give her one."

Dale glanced into the other room, looking at the sleeping girl. Imoen was sprawled on a rocking chair, having just recently cried herself to sleep. His eyes filled with sympathy and he couldn't help but give a tender smile. His plump, short wife laid a hand on his arm, also looking gently at the little girl.

He embraced Gerta lovingly, his eyes moistening. "I know. We can't leave her. She needs someone, and maybe...maybe this can be our chance. You've always wanted a little girl, and, well...now we have a chance to take care of one."

The plump woman returned her husbands embrace. "She needs us. I...I think we might need her a little bit, too."

Dale leaned against the door frame, smiling as Imoen snored quietly. "What will she do? I mean...she can't just sit around at the inn all day, and I don't want any of the drunks that come here anywhere _near_ her."

Gerta smiled. "I'm sure we'll find something to keep her busy. Besides, in a few years she can serve some of the customers."

Dale nodded absently, then walked over to the sleeping girl's form. She whispered 'mommy' in her sleep, and he swallowed tightly. Gerta came over, picked up the child, and placed her on the bed, all the while murmuring soothing words.

The couple stood watching the girl for several minutes. Imoen began to tremble and twitch in her sleep, then she abruptly shot up in bed and screamed , "Mommy!"

Gerta sat down next to the child and took her in her arms, letting the girl sob again.

* * *

The woman walked swiftly through the dark, narrow alley, holding the silver-haired Bhaalspawn in one arm. The girl was still unconscious, a trickle of blood coming from the large welt on her head. The woman reached the end of the alley, turned a corner, and began to silently descend some old, cracked stone steps. 

When she reached the bottom she knocked twice on the door, waited a few seconds, then knocked three times. There was a brief pause, then an eyehole slid open and a voice, lisping and quiet, came from the hold.

"Who'th there?"

"It's me, you idiot. I need to talk to Vars."

The door opened, revealing a short, scarred man with stringy hair. He glanced up the stairwell suspiciously, then allowed the woman to come in.

He gave her a crooked grin, revealing several chipped, yellowed teeth. "Well, well. More buthineth...'tranthactionth' with Varth?"

Her lips twitched as she listened to him. "Yes. Where is he?"

"In hith room...with a girl, though, tho you'll have to wait."

She began walking down the grimy, dimly lit hallway, heading towards Vars' room. "I'll apologize for interrupting...later."

The greasy man hesitated, then ran after her. "Wait! If you interrupt, he'll punith _me_!"

She scowled; his voice had reached that whiny, high pitch that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I don't care. Besides, Poggol, you'll get in trouble if you leave your post."

Poggol halted in midstride, then turned and practically sprinted back to his post. The woman grinned slightly and continued on to Vars' room.

As she passed a large, locked door she paused, listening intently. She could hear the sound of drunken men cheering wildly, and the clash of steel on steel. After several seconds, the clanging metal was interrupted by a scream of absolute pain, followed by the roar of some wildcat.

She glanced absentmindedly at the child lying limply in her arms, then turned and walked swiftly to Vars' room. Opening the door, she smirked at the sound of a woman gasping in pleasure. She murmured a quick spell, creating an orb of glowing light. A muffled, surprised squeal sounded from the bed, followed by a woman with tousled hair sitting up. Next to her, a man no older than his late twenties sat up, grinning when he saw the intruder. There were several seconds of awkward silence, then a pretty blond girl sat up on the man's other side.

The woman shifted the girl in her arms and smirked at the man. "Playtime's over, ladies. Vars, I have an item you'll be _very_ interested in."

As the two woman climbed out of bed Vars gave the still-smirking woman a murderous glare. As he reached for his pants he said, "This had better be good."

"It is. Believe me, it is."

* * *

'We'll be in sight of Candlekeep in just a few minutes, kid. Do you know where you wanna go?" 

Sarevok shifted on his horse, fingers tangled in the creature's mane. "I don't know. What's it like there?"

Kiera grinned. "To be honest, kid...it's really boring. All people really do there is read, study, practice spells... It's heaven for scholars and mages like myself, but...you said you were a fighter, right?" he nodded, glanced nervously at the silent Reiltar. "Well, in that case, you might be better off going with Reiltar. The Iron Throne is famous for it's skilled soldiers and security, I'm sure Reiltar could make sure you get proper training."

Sarevok glanced at Reiltar again, then looked back at Kiera. So far, Reiltar had been...boring. He sometimes asked Sarevok about his training and what he'd been taught at the temple, but that was really the only times he'd spoken. Kiera, on the other hand, seemed friendly, almost like a big sister.

The boy sighed, closing his eyes. "I...I don't know."

Reiltar spoke suddenly. "Kiera...what will the other people at Candle keep say? Will they allow him...?"

Kiera frowned. "I...honestly don't know. That's why I think he'd be better off with you."

Sarevok sighed and made a decision, for some reason regretting it. "I don't want to cause you any trouble, my lady. I'll...go with Reiltar, I guess..."

Kiera nodded. "That's probably for the best." Neither of them noticed Reiltar's unexplainable smirk.

It wasn't long before they had reached the gates of Candlekeep. Kiera stopped at the entrance, turned to Sarevok, and smiled. "Well, I'll see you around, kid. Take care of him, mister 'Iron Throne'."

Sarevok waved goodbye, then looked at Reiltar. The man was watching him with a disturbingly predatorial look. After a moment Reiltar turned his horse and headed north. "Follow me, boy."

* * *

"What'll it be?" a tired, frazzled Gerta asked the group of adventurers who came into the inn. She had just managed to get little Imoen to stop crying and fall asleep again, and Dale had gone out to look for a bed, or the supplies to build one. The apparent leader of the group, a tall man wearing bright armor, approached the counter. 

"Honey mead, and some bread and soup for all of us, please." he returned to his companions and they sat down as Gerta prepared their meal.

The group at the table talked in lowered voices, and Gerta blocked them out with pleasant images of Imoen and herself washing clothes together. She had just entered a daydream where a sixteen year old Imoen was dancing around in a lovely pink dress when one of the men at the table interrupted her.

"Excuse me, good lady," he said, approaching the bar. "Are there any other people staying in this inn?"

"No, sir, not right now. Business has been slow recently, no one's stayed here for nearly three days. Why?"

She took a good look at the man; he was tall, muscular, and fairly handsome with kind brown eyes and a well-kept beard. His brown hair was beginning to show streaks of grey, though his fit body and graceful manner did not suggest that he was very old. He was wearing dark orange armor and the sword in his belt gave off a faint silver glow. The man looked around the inn, as if searching for something, and his right hand rested on the hilt of the sword. Finally he frowned at her. "I sense an evil presence in this inn, good lady. Are you _sure_ there is no one else here?"

Gerta's eyes widened in slight alarm. "An...evil presence? In my inn? N-no, good sir, there's no one here but me and..." she hesitated, unsure of what to call Imoen. "And my...daughter."

The man nodded slowly, looked towards the stairs. "Perhaps there is an intruder...stay here, good lady. I'm going to search upstairs." he turned to his companions, most of whom were dressed in similar armor. "Yasmine, I'm going upstairs."

Yasmine, a short woman dressed in mage's attire, stood up. "What's wrong, Keldorn?"

"I sense something evil here."

The man who had ordered the meal also stood, concentrating briefly. "Now that you mention it, I also sense something."

Gerta wrung her apron nervously, half-expecting a demon to come shrieking from the shadows. "Oh, dear...what should I do?"

The man named Keldorn turned to her. "I suggest you get your daughter and wait in your room."

Another woman, this one wearing shining white armor, headed for the stairs. "Keldorn, you wait with her, make sure they aren't attacked."

The man nodded, turning expectantly to Gerta. She went to her room, glancing around nervously as the party all drew weapons and headed slowly upstairs. She was hardly worried about the strangers stealing anything; most of the valuables were hidden in a box under the bed.

As she and Keldorn entered the room the paladin stopped, frowning deeply. He looked slowly around the room, his eyes coming to rest on the sleeping Imoen. The girl woke suddenly as Gerta picked her up and she rubbed her big brown eyes, looking at Keldorn.

"Good lady...your child. Your child has an aura..."

Gerta twisted her head to the side, confused by the man's completely shocked expression. "A what?"

Keldorn placed his hand on his sword. "Your child...is that really your child?"

Gerta stepped back, staring at Keldorn's sword. "W-what do you-? What are you-?"

The paladin swallowed hard, feeling torn at the idea of slaying a child. "Are you sure it's your child? Who was the father?"

Gerta bit her lip nervously, hugging Imoen tightly. "She...she's not my child. Her mother was murdered very recently, and I took her in. I don't know about the father. But...why?"

"She...lady, I believe she's part demon, or something evil." he drew his sword.

The plump woman gasped, stepping back and staring at the girl in her arms. "Wha-? N-no, you must b-be mistaken. She...couldn't possibly be..."

Imoen yawned and wrapped her small arms around Gerta's neck, her sad little eyes still red from all the crying. Keldorn murmured a brief prayer to Torm, then stepped forward. "Lady, please get away from her."

Gerta's eyes widened. "W-what?! You...you're going to...kill her..." she broke off and stood there shivering.

Imoen looked at Keldorn again and gave a shy, almost imperceptible smile. She looked at his shining sword and smiled wider, reaching out her hands towards him.

Both grownups stared at the little girl. Keldorn suddenly approached slowly, laid one hand on Imoen's head. She reached out and touched his armor as he murmured a quiet prayer, trying to understand what her evil aura was from.

After a moment he drew back, frowning again. "Lady...whatever her taint is-"

Gerta interrupted. "Please, sir." she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. "Please...all my life I've wanted a little girl. Please, don't take her from me. She's small, innocent, she couldn't possibly hurt anyone. Please..."

Keldorn closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I...her taint is very small. Whatever it is, it is definitely evil, but...I do not wish to kill a child. The taint is not a large part of her, but still..." he sheathed his sword. "Just...treat her well. Any taint can be overcome with goodness, and her's is very small."

The woman hugged Imoen tightly. "I'll do anything, anything at all."

"I...cannot kill a child, good lady. Even if she may be touched by evil, she is innocent and pure right now." he turned back towards the door, breathing heavily. "I will tell my fellows that we were mistaken. I bid you farewell, good lady."

Once he had left and closed the door, Gerta sat on her bed, cradling Imoen tightly, quietly crying.

* * *

Karl was momentarily blinded by the flash of light, but when his vision returned her saw that he was in a huge library, with endless walls of books rising up around him. Several men and woman approached, greeting Gorion. 

"And...who's this?" a young woman questioned the mage, looking at Karl.

Gorion placed a hand on the frightened, confused boy's shoulder. "A young man I met in Waterdeep. He had no home to speak of, and he shows great potential as a mage." the people nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and began questioning Gorion about his journey.

Karl spent the next few minutes looking at the maze of bookshelves, the huge paintings, and the regal sculptures that adorned the huge room. A stone staircase rose up in the middle of the room, it's base resting on a rich brown carpet that stretched across the entire room. His inspection of the room was interrupted when Gorion's hands began steering him towards the staircase.

They passed one floor, then reached another floor. This one was covered with a lush red carpet that trailed off into another hallway. The hallway had numerous doors on its sides, each one closed tightly. Gorion led Karl through one of these doors and into a small room. "Wait here, I'll be back shortly." and with that, the mage was gone.

Karl sat on the room's bed, then got up and began rifling through the fancy dresser. It was empty, save for a few scraps of yellow parchment. There was a nightstand next to the bed with a candle, several sheets of parchment, and a bottle of ink with a quill. There was an empty chest at the end of the bed, and other than that the room was empty.

Suddenly the door opened and Gorion came in, carrying a bundle clothes. "I believe these will fit you, Karl." he placed the bundle on the bed, then looked down his nose at the boy. "Now, listen closely; you may not, under any circumstances, tell _anyone_ where you are from. If asked, you will say that you grew up in Waterdeep. Your family was wealthy until they were driven out of business and forced to live on the streets. I found you in Waterdeep, you asked to come with me, and I allowed you to. Understood?"

Karl frowned. "Yes, but why do we have to-?"

"Very few people know that I went to that temple. My business there was very dangerous and secretive, not something I want anyone to know about." Karl nodded slowly. "Now, there are some other children staying here. Go down to the floor we appeared in, then ask someone to show you to the stables. I believe you will find other children playing some game near the stables. If you want, you can ask one of them to give you a tour."

"Alright, but...where are you going?"

"I am going to speak with a friend about you, Karl. Oh, and if anyone asks, you are my ward. Now, let's go." Karl nodded, and the two of them headed for the staircase.

* * *

"A Bhaalspawn, eh?" Vars studied the little girl intently, as if searching for some demonic mark on her body. 

"Part moon elf, as well. A prize, am I right?" the woman shifted as the girl moved, her eyelids twitching.

"Perhaps..." the girl's eyes slowly opened, and she looked from one unfriendly face to the other, her dark eyes big and confused. "So...you're awake."

Bree just stared, trying to get her child mind to figure out what had happened. The last thing she'd seen was Sarry...holding that bloody dagger... She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the burning sensation she felt behind them. The strange man suddenly placed his hand under her chin, raising her eyes to meet his.

"What's your name, girl?"

She pushed his hand away, completely ignorant of his menacing tone. "I'm Bree." she looked around the dark room hopefully, expecting Sarevok to run out at any moment and tickle her. She became slightly dismayed when several moments passed and he did not appear. "Where's Sarry?" she asked the man, interrupting his whispered conversation with the woman.

He shot her an annoyed glare, then continued speaking. "What am I going to do with a little girl? She can't fight, she's not developed, she probably can't read or write...you actually expect me to pay you 50 gold for a whining little brat?"

"She'll learn, Vars."

"I need money _now_. I don't have the time to teach her to fight, and my customers won't pay to see a child take on a leopard or a fully trained gladiator. I'll be ridiculed!"

"So let her be a whore. Some messed up person will pay for her, believe me. Besides, all you ever get around here are drunks and people who couldn't care less about each other, so someone's bound to find a...use for her."

He considered this, watching the girl closely. Her eyes were traveling slowly around the room, as if searching for someone. Finally she looked straight at him, and her lower lip trembled. "Where's Sarry?"

Vars didn't answer, just watched her. "You're...sure she's a Bhaalspawn? If I find out you've deceived me-"

The woman laughed, setting Bree down on the floor. "Of course I'm sure. Now...about the price...?"

Vars turned, muttering curses under his breath as he looked through an ornate desk. Finally he pulled out a large gem, sparkling as its purple surface caught the light. "Here. It's worth about 50 gold. Now get out."

She took the gem and left, smiling with satisfaction. Vars looked at the girl, who was looking at the ground, apparently lost in thought. "Poggel!" he yelled, and almost instantly the greasy, ugly man was at the door.

"Yeth, mathter?"

"Take care of the kid."

Poggol drew a knife and stepped towards Bree, smiling wickedly.

"Not like that, you idiot! She's to be put with the other slaves."

Poggel picked the unresisting girl up, then looked at his master. "Er...which other thlaveth? The gladiatorth or-"

"The whores. No, wait..." Vars turned to the girl, once again lifting her chin up to look her straight in the eye. "Do you know how to fight, girl?"

Bree once again pushed his hand away, but she answered quietly. "Sarry showed me how...do you know where he is, mister?"

Vars stared at her, contemplating what to do. Finally he sighed and spoke. "Put her...you keep her for now. If you find any drunk perverts, give her to them for a while. Just make sure she isn't too damaged."

Poggol grimaced but nodded, heading out the door and to the his position at the door, where he set her down. "Thtay here, girl. If you run off, Varth will kill you, underthand?"

Bree blinked at him, not understanding at all. "Where's Sarry? Who are you?"

"Learn rethpect, girl!"

The angry yell was accompanied by a sharp blow to the side of the head, which sent her rolling against the wall. She didn't truly understand these situations, but she knew how to react; her mother had given her plenty of practice, after all. Bree curled into a ball and closed her eyes, only letting a few tears slip out. Poggel frowned at her but turned away, watching the door like his life depended on it.

Bree lay there, slightly confused as to why the blows had not continued. Fearing some trick from this ugly, smelly man, she stayed curled up, afraid to turn around until several hours later when he carried her to his tiny room, where she would sleep on the floor.

_That's all for right now, I'll try and update soon...review please._


	3. Learning

**Disclaimer: **_I still don't own Baldur's Gate, or any of the characters in it. Um...about 5 months have passed since the last chapter. Sarevok started living at the Iron Throne, with Reiltar as his...crappy but crack of a mentor. Karl's been studying history and all that fun stuff at Candlekeep, Imoen's being raised in the inn, and Bree is living at the gladiator place. So...yeah. _

**Learning**

_I walk alone, I walk alone_

_I walk alone, I walk a-_

Karl-7, Sarevok-9, Bree-6, Imoen-6

"Move your feet! Faster!" Reiltar commanded as Sarevok tried desperately to block his sparring partner's attacks. His partner was nearly five years older than Sarevok, and he had been trained with a sword since he was old enough to hold.

But, then again, so had Sarevok.

Sarevok blocked one particularly vicious chop, returning it with a horizontal slice that forced his opponent backwards. He stepped forward, bringing his padded blade in for another swing, when his opponent made a sudden forward lunge, taking Sarevok by surprise. The nine year old barely had time to bring his weapon up to block the older boy's next hit, and he had no time to block the powerful punch to his stomach. He grimaced and whimpered at the pain, moving backwards in time to avoid another swing.

"Block, fool! Move faster!"

The older boy smirked slightly at Reiltar's harsh commands. Sarevok just clenched his fists and came at the boy again, this time attacking with a series of lightning fast blows. He grinned as he felt his padded weapon strike home, but his joy was short-lived; his opponent had turned to the side, rolling with the blow and then springing to his feet. Sarevok lunged at him, sure of his victory. Sarevok brought his sword up to block a swing, but the other boy's weapon never even came close. Sarevok realized the feint too late, mentally cursing himself as he felt him feet get knocked out from under him. An instant later he was on the floor, his opponent's sound against his neck.

Reiltar came over, pushed the older boy away. He looked down at Sarevok, frowning, and Sarevok swallowed. "Such an obvious feint...you should have recognized it." Sarevok nodded as he climbed stiffly to his feet, grimacing as the numerous bruises of the last few weeks of almost nonstop fighting ached. "You may have a short break. Be ready to study in twenty minutes."

Again the boy nodded, turning to walk to his room. When he reached his room he slowly went in, rubbing his aching muscles, and lay on the bed. He stayed like that for several minutes, staring up at the ceiling, until he was interrupted by a whisper coming from under the bed. He jumped up and peered under the bed, seeing no one. He drew the dagger he kept in his boot, and began tentatively poking the area under the bed.

Then the whisper came again, this time from above him. He jumped back and looked at the ceiling, but there was no one there. "Who's there?" he asked with fake calmness, gripping his dagger tightly.

_Don't worry, it's just me..._

"Wha-? Who's there?!" he yelled this time, looking around frantically. There were several moments of silence, and then the door opened and his teacher walked in. The man looked curiously at Sarevok's dagger, then tossed him a book.

"Start on page 153..."

* * *

Bree sat silently, watching the woman in the pit fight for her life against a huge wolf. The woman was crying softly as she poked her sword at the canine, and there were men and woman on all sides of the ring cheering for the woman's death. Poggol, standing next to Bree and watching the fight with a drunken grin yelled for the wolf to tear the woman apart. 

The fight was over before it had really begun; the woman barely knew how to hold a sword, and the starving wolf was a master of survival. Bree shivered and closed her eyes as the woman's dying screams pierced the shouts of the audience. Several guards threw a chain around the wolf's neck and dragged it out, clearing the way for Vars to enter the ring. The man grimaced at the woman's shredded body, then turned and smiled at the crowd.

"Next," he announced in a loud voice, "We have two murderers fighting...a _Drow_!" wild calls for blood and death came from the audience, and Vars bowed out of the ring. Immediately two men wearing leather armor and wielding swords were teleported into the ring. The audience cheered for them, then began screaming for blood as a young Drow male with only a rusty sword was teleported in.

Bree watched uncaringly as the two men attacked the Drow. She sighed and looked up at Poggol, wondering if he would notice if she left. If he did, she would be cursed and possible beaten, but...as a cry of pain sounded from the arena she stood and backed away from the ugly man, smiling slightly as she reached the hallway.

Bree just stood there or a minute, unsure of what to do with her newfound free time. After a few moments she shrugged and began walking down the hall, towards the room where the animals were caged. As she got in she was greeting by the furious roars of bears, wildcats, and wolves. She went to the first cage, where a mother leopard was nursing her babies. Bree smiled and watched, not noticing the mother's deathly thin body, nor the glazed, sickly look in her eyes. As Bree knelt by the cage the leopard gave a weak growl but did not rise.

She watched the babies feeding for several minutes, but she was interrupted by a sudden sizzle of magic as someone teleported into the room. Bree watched as the Drow who had been fighting was forced into a cage, his resistance halted by a stun spell. The guards spoke in low voices, then left.

The stun spell gradually wore off, and the Drow rubbed his head wearily. Bree watched him for a minute, staring at his silver hair. She walked to his cage and gave him a friendly smile, still staring at his hair.

"I like your hair." she said quietly, fingering her own silver locks.

The Drow stared at her emotionlessly, then muttered, "Hn."

"Why is your skin so dark?" Bree asked, not bothered by his lack of response.

"Leave, Darthiir." his voice was low, slightly threatening.

She cocked her head to the side and scrunched up her forehead in confusion. "What's a darther?"

He blinked at her, frowning.

"My name is Bree. What's your name?" he looked away, absently rubbing a small gash on his side. "Are you darther? That's a funny name-"

"I am Imyrr Rilynlyl."

"Im...ear...Rileneal...um...Im...Im. Can I call you Im?"

"Imyrr."

"Im."

He glared at her briefly, then sighed in defeat. "Very well. Now leave me, Darthiir."

She did the exact opposite, sitting down next to his cage. The cage was long and short, forcing Imyrr to sit hunched over to avoid hitting the top. Bree reached in and touched his silver hair, smiling as the silky strands slipped through her fingers. Imyrr's hand shot out and grabbed hers, a sudden alarm springing into his eyes.

She frowned and pulled her hand away. "Im, what's a darther? I've never heard that word before."

"It means elf."

"Is it a different language?"

"Go away."

"Why is your skins so dark?"

"Be silent, girl."

"But why?"

"Orbb Valsharess, belbau uns'aa patience...xor natha velve." (Spider Queen, give me patience...or a blade.)

Bree blinked. "Huh?"

Imyrr didn't answer, just stared as the door opened and Vars, followed closely by Poggol, strode in. He stopped next to the now standing Bree and glared at her. "Poggol, I put you in charge of this girl, and I expect you to watch her."

"O-of courthe, mathter! I...er..."

"Shut up, fool." Vars turned to Imyrr, grinning. "You were quite popular. Popular enough to retain your worthless life...for a while, at least."

"Flamgra wun l' Rendan, rivvil." (Burn in the Abyss, human.)

"I know you can understand me, vermin. I'll explain your situation; you are in Baldur's Gate, _not_ in the Underdark, which means that you have no power here. You'll fight for me, and in maybe a few years I'll release you. What's a few years to a Drow, after all?"

"I will not bargain with you, rivvil."

"Are you so sure? It's either fight willingly, which you do very well, or fight under the control of a mage...which will limit your fighting ability and will be no doubt painful."

"Dormagyn dosst aeros. Dos orn ssrig'luin ol vel'drav Usstan harventh doeb dosst xukuth." (Save your breath; you'll need it when I rip out your heart.)

Vars stood staring at Imyrr's murderous eyes for several seconds, until he finally sighed. "I don't know what you said, but I will not be insulted by vermin such as you. Poggol, see too it that our new friend is given a _proper_ welcome. But remember to heal him afterwards." with that, he turned and left the room.

Poggol grinned at Imyrr, who just stared back. He was about to say some witty threat when Bree tugged tentatively on his shirt. "M-master, I'm hungry-"

"What do I care?! Go feed yourself!" he snarled, forgetting Vars' earlier instructions regarding Bree's care.

As she walked away Poggol pulled out a long, hooked dagger. As he approached the small cage he muttered, "I've always hated Drow..."

* * *

Karl stared at the book, trying to memorize the confusing symbols. He nearly fell out of his chair when Gorion placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you understand them?" the wizard asked, looked at the arcane symbols. 

"Some of them..."

"Show me which ones."

Karl pointed to a line of symbols, simple spells to summon the natural elements. "This one calls water, this one fire...this one draws on the power of the earth."

Gorion nodded, then pointed to another symbol. "And this one?"

Karl stared at it, trying to understand the properties of that particular spell. After nearly five minutes he answered slowly, "It...it calls lighting from an already existing storm...is that right?"

Gorion nodded, surprised; usually Karl was only able to understand the simplest of spells, yet he had just understood a third level spell. "And...this one?" this time he pointed to a slightly less powerful spell.

Again they remained silent for a while. "I...I don't know. Something to do with...with..." he sighed. "I have no idea."

"I see...come with me, Karl."

Karl followed his mentor outside to the stables, and then into a huge pile of hay. Gorion waded through the hay, peering through its depths, until he finally spotted what he was looked for. Karl jumped in shock as the mage dived into the hay, then reappeared covered in dirt and hay.

"Take this, but be careful." he said, holding out his clenched fist. Karl held out his hand, and Gorion dropped something warm and furry into it. Karl looked down at the panicked mouse, now clawing at his hands in an attempt to escape.

"What do I do?"

"Try to calm it down." Karl was confused, but he began stroking the mouse gently. "Not like that, though. I mean with your mind."

"I...don't understand."

Gorion thought for a minute. "Do you remember when you touched a jar of water and I showed you how to shape it? It's like that...touch the mouse, and then impart the idea of what your want it to do. The idea to calm down, that you are not going to hurt it."

The boy nodded, stared hard at the scrambling mouse. He reached out to it with his mind, mentally said that he wasn't going to hurt it. It took a few minutes, but the mouse finally looked at his with its beady eyes and relaxed, sniffed Karl's hand. Karl's eyes widened and he gave Gorion a huge smile. "I...I did it! I did it!"

Gorion smiled back, feeling a swell of pride. "Very good. Now, listen carefully; in a few days I'm going on a trip to Beregost, and while I'm gone I want you to study a book I'm going to give you."

Karl nodded, eager to learn more about his new ability.

"Good. Now, follow me..." they went back inside, and Gorion pulled a huge, dusty tome out of one of the bookcases. "Try to read as much of this as possible."

The boy's eyes bulged as he looked at the tome. "What's it about?"

"What you just did to the mouse is called Animal Empathy. It's a skill druids and rangers pride themselves on. Over the past few months you've show some skill at casting spells involving elements. I believe reading this book will teach you about the natural order of the world, which will help you understand the elements and the world around you."

Karl swallowed and slumped against a bookcase. "But...but I'm not very good at spells. I've only cast a couple on my own-"

"Yes, but your lack of experience was what was holding you back. You just need more practice."

"But...what if I don't understand the book? What if-"

"Well, you won't know until you try, now will you?" Gorion gave him an encouraging smile. "I have faith in you, Karl. you'll do just fine."

* * *

**A Couple Days Later...**

* * *

"Save me! Save me!" 

"Don't worry, princess! I'll rescue you!" Gerta cried as she moved her doll to Imoen's. "There, princess. Now you're safe."

Imoen smiled happily and made the two dolls kiss, causing Gerta to burst out laughing.

"I love you...Uh-o! We forgot to name them!"

"What do you want to name them, sweetie?"

Imoen thought for a moment. "How about...Dale and Gerta!" Gerta blushed and smiled as she looked at the dolls.

"Perfect names, sweetie. What happens now?"

"They get married and live happily ever after." to accentuate the point, Imoen sang quietly and made the dolls dance with each other.

At that moment Dale walked in, carrying a piece of candy. The couple was spoiling Imoen; partly because they wanted to make her forget about the loss of her mother, and partly because they loved the look on her face when she sucked candy.

Imoen squealed and lunged at Dale, throwing her small arms around his legs. He smiled contentedly and handed her the candy, laughing as she made weird faces and sucked the candy.

"Shouldn't you be at the counter?" Gerta asked, curios as to who was feeding the hungry guests.

"It's far too early for anyone to-" as if on cue the sound of someone clearing their throat come from the main room. Dale went in, going behind the counter to serve the newcomer.

"Arabellan wine, please." the man said, taking a seat at the counter. "And I will require a room, as well."

"Sure, we have- were you attacked, sir?" Dale asked, looking at several dark spatters on the man's dark grey robes.

"Bandits on the road."

Dale poured the man his wine. "Where'd you come from?"

"Candlekeep." he answered, sipping at the drink. "The road is crawling with robbers, and some kobolds as well."

"No kidding. The area around here used to be safe and quiet, but nowadays..." Gerta came out then, carrying Imoen.

"I'll take the first shift, dear. You've been up all night, you could use some rest."

Dale nodded and kissed his wife goodnight. Gerta smiled at the man. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. My sister went to Candlekeep, her name is Kiera. Do you know her, by any chance?"

"Yes, Kiera is a close friend of mine."

Gerta beamed. "How's she doing there? I mean...does she really fit in?"

"Yes. She is brilliant. More wine, please."

Gerta poured him more, bursting with questions. "You're too kind, mister...?"

"Gorion."

"You're too kind, Gorion. But, you're obviously tired, I should- Sweetie, don't touch the-!"

Too late. Imoen was reaching for a pan and ended up knocking over several bottles of beer. Gerta rushed over as the little girl began crying, a shard of glass in her arm.

"Here, let me see her." Gerta handed Gorion the wailing child, watching nervously as he inspected the wound. "Hold my hand, child, and squeeze it if it hurts, all right?"

Imoen took his hand in a death grip, wailing louder as he pulled the glass out. Her cries were almost immediately hushed, however, as he murmured a healing spell. "Good as new."

Gerta took Imoen and hugged her tightly, staring in awe at the healed wound. "Th-thank you, kind sir! I...how can I ever repay-?"

"A room will suffice. I'm glad I could help."

"Of course! There's a nice room, third door on the left." he took out a large pouch, practically bulging with coins. "Oh, no, that' not necessary, sir! Please, I insist."

Gorion nodded, headed for the stairs. "Very well. Tell me if the wound reopens."

Gerta nodded and continued inspecting Imoen as Gorion went upstairs and into his room. Once there he sat down, thinking hard.

Karl had once cut his finger, a wound similar to Imoen's. When Gorion had healed him, things had been...strange. It had looked like the cut as already started to close, which was extremely unnatural. Imoen's cut hadn't been closing, but there hadn't been very much blood. Also, when Gorion had healed Karl he had felt something...different about the healing. Normally a healing spell would use a measured amount of energy, then stop. With Karl, however, the energy had continued to build up, as if the wound was not healing.

Or, Gorion had thought later, as if Karl's body was demanding more energy. Imoen had felt the same way, her body demanding more healing, though she was barely injured.

Gorion frowned as he considered the implications; either he was going insane, or Imoen was a Bhaalspawn, just like Karl.

_That's all for now. Hey! Look! A button! What happens if you press it, I wonder...maybe you should press it...and click the review button, juuust to see what happens..._


	4. They're a Little Different

**Disclaimer;** _Ok, if you think I own Baldur's Gate then you have serious problems. If I owned it, do you think I'd be writing stories about it? I would be in Hawaii, watching sharks eat some poor surfer. Thanks for the reviews, I wuv them! Imoen has a very tiny part in this chapter; most of her story is focused on Gorion in Beregost. She'll have more later on, but right now I've got a slight writer's block concerning her. Anywho...bye._

**They're a Little Different...**

_My shadow's the only one that walk's beside me_

_My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating_

_Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me_

_'Til then I walk alone_

Karl-7, Sarevok-9, Bree-6, Imoen-6

"_Absolutely not_!" Gorion practically shouted at the sorcerer.

"But-"

"No."

"And why not?! Are you afraid I'd hurt him? Because-"

"No."

"Hear me out at lea-"

"No."

Damien paused in his pleas, narrowing his eyes at Gorion. "He's dangerous, Gorion. An examination-"

The older wizard cut him off. "Would be treating him like an animal. He's a human-"

"Bhaalspawn. A dangerous-"

"He's 7 years old, hardly a danger to anyone. And drop the facade of caring for my wellbeing, Damien."

"I merely want to-"

"Treat an innocent boy like some freak and-"

"Stop interrupting me! I _swear_ I won't hurt him! A few days in my care and..." the younger, red-haired sorcerer trailed off as Gorion's eyes narrowed into tiny slits, the menacing look accentuated by his sharp nose and stern expression.

"You're perverted definition of care? As in cutting him open, perhaps pitting him in a fight against a dragon to see who wins? How about spending a few hours inside his head, reading every thought and emotion? Maybe even poking at his soul? No, I think not."

The sorcerer placed a prudent hand near a dagger he kept at his side; Gorion looked like he was about to wreak some serious damage. "I would not hurt him. I have spells, potions, I could completely numb him to everything! He wouldn't feel anything, it would be like he was asleep the whole time. And the possible benefit, Gorion! To understand a Bhaalspawn, to tap the power in his soul-"

Gorion took a step closer, towering over the sorcerer. He looked remarkably like a gathering thunderstorm. "No. You do not want to know what will happen if you say one more word about this. Understood?" Quivering slightly, Damien nodded. "Good. Now, if that is the only reason you wanted me to waste my valuable time in coming to Beregost, I'll be leaving you." without waiting for an answer he turned and left.

Damien clenched his fists, glaring after the older man. "Fine." he whispered darkly. "If you don't want to do it the easy way..." he turned and muttered a spell, summoning his familiar, a small horned imp, to his side.

"Yes, what?" the creature said irritably, looking bored and resigned.

"Twister, I have a job for you-"

The imp rolled its eyes and muttered a curse in the Abyssal tongue. "Well, _duh_! You always have a job for me. Twister, do this. Twister, do that. Twister, paint my nails. Twister, go kill stuff. Twister, shave my-"

Damien turned bright red, clenched his fists in rage. "Shut up, you insolent cretin! You're lucky I continue to summon you to this plane, instead of banishing you to the Abyss for a hundred years! You should be-"

"A hundred years?! Oh, the horror!" Twister said with mock horror, giving the sorcerer a slightly amused grin. "Y'know, you should really come up with another threat. Something like...'Kill that rabbit or I'll force-feed you onions.' That's what my old master used to say, y'know. Nice man, it's a shame he got sucked into Baator..."

Damien just stared at the ever-mocking imp, entertaining beautiful fantasies where Twister was slowly ripped to shred by a manticore. "Yes. Whatever. Shut up, just shut up. I need you to do something..."

Gorion entered his room at the inn and pulled out a quill, a bottle of ink, and a scroll of parchment. He sat at a desk, pursing his lips at the paper and thinking of Damien. After several minutes he raised his quill and began to write...

_Khalid and Jaheira,_

_I trust you remember my previous letter informing you of my new ward. Damien, Red Wizard of Thay, has also learned of him. I am not sure how he came by this information, but he is now a serious threat. To take violent action against him could provoke the wrath of the Red Wizards, hardly something I am interested in. Damien's 'research' and experiments may be inhuman, but the information he can get from a subject is valuable to the Red Wizards, and so he is important to them. _

_I will stay with Karl and watch him as best I can, but I am also concerned about a Bhaalspawn girl here in Beregost. I seriously doubt two Bhaalspawn would be allowed at Candlekeep, so I can do little to protect her. I'd like to call in a few favors, then; Jaheira, please inform Galvary of Damien and ask him to have someone keep an eye on the sorcerer. _

_Also, I would be grateful if you two could come to Beregost to check on the Bhaalspawn girl. She is called Imoen and lives at the Beregost inn. I doubt she is in danger, since Damien did not seem to know of her, but I don't want to take any chances. One more request, my friends; Karl is showing some aptitude for druidic magic and abilities. Jaheira, I would be eternally grateful if you could perhaps teach him a thing or two. _

_Gorion_

He had just signed his name when a mad shriek sounded from downstairs. He frowned and went down, expecting to see a bloody fight. He was relieved and amused to see, not a fight, but a giggling Bhaalspawn girl running naked and happy around the inn. Her mother was chasing Imoen, pleading for her to stop.

Gorion smiled slightly as he watched the child vexing her flustered mother, the spectacle being observed by an entire inn full of laughing men and women. Imoen seemed pleased by her audience, and she showed it by climbing onto the bar and giving a joyful bow. Gorion laughed out loud as she straightened and raised both arms above her head and yelled, "Tada!" in a loud voice.

The inn burst into laughter and applause, and Gerta just slapped her hand against her head. Imoen jumped off the table and dodged the hands of several serving girls. The child giggled and continued her escape, leading her pursuers in circles. For a six-year-old, she was incredibly quick. At last she ran into Gorion and was knocked to the floor. She looked up at him and gave an adorable smile, then raised her arms and yelled, "Tada!" again.

Gerta finally scooped the naked girl up and hurried her out of the room. As Gorion watched them go he frowned; if Damien learned of this child's existence, there could be serious trouble.

* * *

Reiltar smiled at the messenger, causing the poor man to pale. Sarevok, watching from several feet away, felt a sting of pity for him; he had only seen Reiltar smile twice, and both times there had been bloodshed. 

"I thought my directions were clear...?" the Iron Throne's leader's voice was cold, angry. The messenger was sweating, looking around at the numerous guards with a pleading expression.

"I...y-yes, they were. B-but the...the thing is-"

"And I believe you failed to follow my directions, correct?" Reiltar's smile widened, showing two rows of milky teeth that almost appeared pointed.

"I...I..." the quivering man's word's ended in a bloody gurgle as Reiltar's scimitar entered his stomach. The still-smiling man drew the blade out, then sliced in again at the messenger's leg.

Sarevok's eyes were glued to the scene as the gasping man stumbled backwards, clutching at his wounds. Reiltar followed right behind, cutting into the other man's leg. He went down heavily, his legs collapsing under him. Reiltar stood over him, still smiling.

"Try and follow my directions. It's less painful." he explained casually, right before his scimitar entered the man's gaping mouth and curved up, into his brain.

Sarevok paled at the sight, though he had seen and felt Reiltar's punishments several times. The man was merciless, and he seemed to almost enjoy the pain he caused.

He sheathed his bloody blade and kicked at the corpse. "Clean this mess up." he commanded a nearby guard, who was staring at the gore expressionlessly. He turned back to Sarevok, looking as though nothing unordinary had happened. "Why are you still here, fool? Go to the training room, _now_."

The young Bhaalspawn looked respectfully at the ground, understanding the price of looking Reiltar in the eye. "Yes, sir." he muttered darkly, heading for the training room. As he went he entertained a brief fantasy involving Reiltar and his sword.

When he reached the room he found a tall boy waiting for him, already wearing the padded armor and holding a padded sword. Sarevok grabbed his training gear and prepared, then stepped onto the mat and scowled at his opponent.

As their supervisor gave the order to begin, the other boy lunged at the Bhaalspawn. Sarevok prepared to counter the clever move, but he suddenly found himself staring at the boy's bloody body, laying at a twisted angle on the mat.

He straightened and stared at the sight, lowering his sword, and took a hesitant step forward. The boy's glazed eyes stared at him, the grinning face covered in gore.

Sarevok opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by a crushing blow to the stomach. He sucked in air and doubled over, the bloody corpse suddenly replaced by his victorious, and very alive, opponent.

The supervisor looked slightly confused, but he ordered them to resume their starting positions. The other boy sneered at Sarevok. "Pathetic." he said snidely, giving the Bhaalspawn a cocky grin.

Sarevok resumed his position, looking hesitantly at the mat for some trace of blood. There was none. He frowned at his opponent; it must have been some clever...trick. The boy had tried to distract him with an illusion. That was all. That had to be all.

* * *

_There are four main elements; fire, water, earth, and electricity. These are the base powers a druid can use, although there are other elements; air, ice, space, time, light, darkness, sunlight, and moonlight. The main elements can be used separately or together. Using two opposite elements at the same time, such as fire and water or light and darkness, can create an even stronger spell, though it is much more difficult. _

_Spells involving the elements can be used any time, but the most powerful spells must be connected to an already existing element. For example, a wall of moonlight can be created any time, day or night, but a more powerful, longer lasting wall of moonlight must be created at night when the moon is visible. _

Karl read through the last few paragraphs, trying to understand what it was saying. _So..._ he bit his lip and concentrated. _The elements can be used more than one at a time, but using opposites together is more powerful. _

He blinked in surprise, then smiled slowly; he had understood! This made more sense than the wizard magic Gorion used. He eagerly turned to the next page, hungry for information, when a girlish giggle sounded from behind.

He turned and looked at a girl slightly shorter than him; she had sunny hair that reached nearly to her toes; her eyes were huge and blue, sparkling happily.

"Hi. Are you Karl?" she asked in a sweet voice, smiling brightly.

"Um...yeah."

She giggled again. "I'm Twister." she leaned in close, as if telling a secret. "I think you're really cute, Karl." he turned bright red and stared at her with wide eyes, not knowing whether he should smile or run for his life. "Do you wanna play something?"

He nodded eagerly, the book forgotten. "S-sure." he cleared his throat, trying to sound more manly. "What would you like to play, Twister?"

She shrugged and smiled at him. "Whatever you want, Karl." she giggled again. "You have such a cute name."

He felt his cheeks burning. "Thanks. I like you're name, Twister."

She smiled and bit one cute, pink lip. "Do you think I'm cute, Karl?"

He gaped, mouth moving up and down in an effort to talk. "Y-yeah, I think you're really cute."

She grinned and took his hand, pulling him towards the door. "C'mon! Let's go play outside. It's a beautiful day." Karl nodded dumbly and allowed her to drag him along, suddenly wondering if he was dreaming.

They went outside and were instantly greeted by Gorion, who was just arriving home. He raised one brow at the couple, then just walked past them, shaking his head and muttering about 'the foolishness of youth'.

Karl watched him go, then turned to follow. "Um...can we play later, Twister? I want to see Gorion."

Twister nodded and waved goodbye as he left. When he was out of sight she ran behind a nearby tree and murmured a spell. No one noticed the cloud of smoke that suddenly erupted, and no one noticed the blinding white light of a teleportation spell.

Gorion immediately went upstairs and headed for the other wizard's quarters. Reaching a plain wooden door he knocked and called out, "Kiera? It's Gorion."

The door opened, revealing a short woman with blonde hair that fell nearly to the floor. "Hey, glad to see you're back." she said with a grin, closing the door behind him. "How was Beregost?"

Gorion stared at her grimly. "Not good. You know of Damien, the Red Wizard?"

"Nope, never heard of him. And nice of you to say how happy you are to see me, by the way."

"...It's very nice to see you, Kiera." he said dutifully, slightly amused at the woman's carefree attitude.

"Nice to see you too, old man." Kiera grinned and sat in a chair, her expression suddenly becoming more serious. "So...who's this Damien guy?"

"He's a...I'm not sure what to call him. He's a sorcerer, a very powerful sorcerer. He enjoys...testing strange creatures."

"'Strange', eh? Define that."

"Anything out of the ordinary. Half-dragons, creatures exposed to the Underdark's radiation, mutated creatures...god spawns."

Kiera frowned. "What kind of experiments, exactly?"

Gorion narrowed his eyes. "Anything you can imagine. I learned of what he did to the child of a dragon and a Deep Gnome."

"A dragon and a Deep Gnome?" she chuckled. "_Please_ tell me the dragon had shape shifted or something."

"Perhaps."

"Okay, well...you were saying?"

"Damien enjoys understanding every inch of a strange creature's body, be it a hair or their eye socket. From what I heard, he numbed and stunned the spawn and began to...do things to it." the wizard paled slightly as he imagined the sorcerer bent over some creature's body. "Apparently he...made incisions in nearly every part of the poor subjects body. He cast spells that allowed him to see inside the creature's mind as he performed experiments, spells that prevented the thing from dying while he cut its eyes and examined its organs. There's more, but I'm sure you get the picture."

Kiera shivered. "Creep. Why on earth does he experiment?"

Gorion shrugged, not quite sure. "I don't know for sure. Perhaps he wants to find some harnessable power or something. Who knows? The point is, he wanted me to allow him to study Karl."

The woman frowned, confused. "Karl? Why?"

"I have only told a few people about this, but...Karl is a Bhaalspawn." he waited, half expecting Kiera to show revulsion, fear, perhaps even anger.

Instead she just raised an eyebrow. "Wait...they allowed him here at Candlekeep?"

"Yes-"

"Crap!"

He blinked, confused by her furious expression. "What's wrong?"

She leaned back and sighed. "Well...during the raid on the Bhaalspawn temple Reiltar, the Iron Throne leader, and I ran into a Bhaalspawn kid who'd escaped from the fight. Poor kid was a wreck, said he's lost his little sister. I was gonna bring him here, but...I doubted they would allow him. So..." she rubbed her eyes and sighed. "So...Reiltar took him. Poor kid."

"Reiltar? Why would he want a Bhaalspawn?"

"Who knows? The kid, Sarevok, didn't really seem like anything special. Maybe Reiltar...I really have no idea. But...about Karl..."

"Oh, yes. I'd appreciate it if you could keep an eye on him. I won't be able to watch him all the time, and I don't want Damien getting to him."

Kiera nodded. "Yeah, sure. That creep won't get anywhere near the kid, I can promise you that."

He smiled at her, grateful. "Thank you, Kiera. I appreciate this."

She opened the door and headed downstairs. "You know, you should take a look at the Bhaalspawn proph-mmph!" he clapped a hand over her mouth as Karl appeared from around the corner, clutching the tome Gorion had given him.

The boy stared at them, confused, and Gorion mentally cursed as he searched for something to say. "So...that is how you...keep someone from screaming...when...you don't want to startle them." he said lamely, letting his friend go.

Kiera bit back her laughter and nodded at him solemnly. "Thank you for teaching me. I've always wondered about how to do that." she grinned and walked away, chuckling lightly.

Gorion sighed and turned to Karl. "So...did you take a look at the book?"

The boy nodded eagerly, practically bursting with excitement. "Yes, sir, I did. It talked about all the different elements and the different ways they can be used and the different spells and what they can be used for and ways to make them stronger and the law of the world and..."

Gorion listened to his ward excitedly relay everything he had learned. The wizard was deeply impressed; Karl was only seven, yet he was learning quickly.

* * *

Imyrr leaned against the cool bars of his cramped cage, letting the metal sooth his burning head. His shirt was ripped into little more than rags, the ruined clothing and the numerous scars under it the product of Poggol's 'welcome'. 

A lion, its golden eyes watching him hungrily from only a few feet away, gave a low growl and bared its milky fangs. He stared at it, mentally daring it to attack. The creature rose and swiped at his cage, roaring hungrily. In answer, Imyrr outlined the cat in purple fairy fire, allowing one lip to twitch as the feline screeched and rolled desperately across the cage floor.

The door suddenly opened, and Poggol, practically dragging Bree, came in. The pair stopped in front Imyrr's cage and Poggol gave him a yellow, toothy grin.

"Tho, you're awake. You're to fight in the ring in ten minuteth, tho I thuggetht you prepare." he turned and left, again dragging Bree out. As Imyrr watched them go he glared at Bree, who turned to give him a smile and a wave. "Good luck, mr. Im-ow!"

Poggol slapped her sharply. "Thilence, thtupid girl! Do you want you're dinner or not?"

She looked at the floor. "Sorry, master."

Imyrr entertained a fantasy where every living thing in the room was slowly devoured by spiders. He sat in thoughtful silence for several minutes, until finally the guards cam to get him.

Poggol dragged Bree into the crowd of onlookers as Vars announced the fighters.

She tugged on his shirt. "Master, I don't want to watch the fight. It's scary."

He shoved her away, raising a dirty bottle of whiskey to his mouth and chugging it. Bree blinked at him, then turned as 'Im' and a huge leopard were brought into the ring. She watched as the two fought, Im dealing the cat several blows and taking a few in return. She gasped as the cat's huge paw swiped across his side, leaving a bloody gash.

She bit her lip and tried to think of that thing...Sarry had once accidentally hit her when they were mock-fighting, and...he had given her...something. She struggled to think of what the pretty blue liquid was called. A...parcel? Portal? No...the leopard suddenly gave a scream, and the word came to her; it was a potion!

She smiled and ran out of the room, heading for the room where the other slaves were kept. She opened the rotting door and peered inside, staring at the numerous people who were just...sitting there.

"Um...hi." she said hesitantly, looking around. "I'm looking for a potion..."

A young woman, a long scar running across her once-beautiful face, glared at the girl. "We have no potions, child. Ask someone else."

Bree stared at the woman, her mouth formed into a little pink circle. "Um..." at that moment she was roughly shoved into the room.

She turned to look at the intruder, and everyone else in the room dropped their gaze respectfully to the floor.

"Frieda, you're next." Vars said harshly, staring at the scarred woman. The woman nodded and bit her lip, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Bree gave a tentative smile and walked to Vars. "Um...master?"

He glared at the girl. "Where's Poggol, brat?"

"H-he's watching the fight. Can...can I have a potion, master?" she twisted her hair around her finger, as she always did when she was nervous.

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Im is hurt."

"Im? Who's Im?"

"He's my friend. I want to help him."

Vars studied the girl's huge, black eyes with a frown. _If Poggol looses her one more time..._ he sighed. "Yes, but only if you go back to Poggol." he knelt down and took the girl's chin firmly, forcing her to meet his cold eyes. "If I find you away from him one more time, I'm going to kill you. All right?"

She nodded quickly, swallowing. He handed her a small vial and watched her run off down the hall. As she turned a corner, he frowned darkly. "Bhaalspawn...yeah, the Nine Hells she is."

Bree entered the room with the animals, running to Im's cage. She found him sitting hunched over in it, clutching his torn and bloody side. His face was completely emotionless, and he looked at her with unreadable eyes.

She smiled at him and held out the vial. "Im, I got this for you! It will make you feel better..." Bree trailed off as Imyrr gave her a threatening glare, then turned away.

"Leave."

She blinked, not understanding. "But...it will make you feel better...don't you want it?"

"Hn." he refused to look at her, refused to accept the foolish elf's help.

Bree twisted her head to the side, then just set the potion down next to Imyrr's cage. "You can-"

"I do not want your help, fool. Leave, or face my wrath." his eyes were so threatening that she actually paled and shivered.

"I...I'm sorry...I just wanted...to help..." Bree bit her lip and turned away, walking out of the room with her head down and her eyes filling with tears.

Imyrr sneered at the foolish surfacer's back; they thought they could poison him? Numb him with the surface world's wretched concoctions? _Fools,_ he thought, staring at the wall. _The Drow are not so easily deceived._

As time went by, however, and as the blood pumped freely from his wounds, Imyrr began to eye the potion with different feelings. Finally, when he could feel his life slipping away, he reluctantly reached for the bottle and downed its contents, expecting some vile poison to wrack his body.

Instead of poison, however, he found a soothing warmth spread over his wounds. Still, though, he tensed; too many times he had felt the warmth of healing, and too many times that healing had been followed by indescribable pain. Several minutes passed, and no pain came. After a while longer, Imyrr relaxed, rubbing his healed side. He leaned back against his cage and stared at the wall, a smiling face framed with silver hair lurking in the back of his thoughts.

_Okey-dokey, that's all for now. Rejoice! 'The Prestige' comes out in just a few endless days! Yay! I loved that movie... Anywho, please review...I'll give you a cookie. I promise. _


	5. Dangerous Acquiantences

**Disclaimer: **_...Is this really necessary? You know I don't own the game, and so do the people who own it, so...well, whatever. Thanks for the reviews, I lurved them, and now you all get cookies. INVISIBLE COOKIES! BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Whooo...sorry, I'm a little hopped up on...coffee. (shifty eyes) Yes. Coffee. It was DEFINITELY coffee. Er, I think I'm going to take Imoen away from her family in this chapter...or maybe the next chapter. Soon. I like Gerta and Dale, but...it's hard to think of stuff to write for them. So...that's all. Read and review, purty please._

**Dangerous Acquiantences**

_Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Aaah-ah,_

_Ah-ah, Ah-ah, Ah-ah_

Karl-7, Sarevok-9, Bree-6, Imoen-6

Imoen gave Gerta a goodnight hug and kiss, then crawled under her coves. Gerta tucked her in, then went to her own bedroom and crawled in next to Dale.

Her husband propped himself up on one arm, stroking his wife's face gently. "Good business, today." he murmured, drawing her close.

"Mmm. Did that wizard fellow come back?"

"The red-robed one? No, why?"

Gerta turned over and but her lip. "I...I don't know. He made me uncomfortable, he was staring at Imoen."

Dale chuckled and gave his wife a passionate kiss. "My love, I think _everyone_ was staring at Imoen. She _was _pretty loud..."

She sighed and snuggled into his chest, reveling in the feeling of loving security. "Yes, I suppose that was it..."

* * *

Imoen smiled as she heard her mother's voice, singing the usual bedtime song. The little girl danced down the long, dark hallway and sang along, her childish voice remarkably off-pitch. 

"Sleepy, dreams are coming. Sleepy, time to sleep. Sleepy, you're so sleepy." she paused as her mother stopped singing and called out, "Angel, I'm over here. I have your cake."

Imoen grinned and skipped down the hall, towards a bright gold light. She stepped into the light, looked around for Frieda. "Mommy? Where are you?"

"Over here, angel. Next to the chair."

Imoen smiled and followed the voice around a corner. She froze when she saw the chair...and next to it, her mother's pale body, the stiff hand clutching the tray that held the pink-frosted cake. Imoen trembled and worked her mouth, trying to call her mother's name...

The little girl shot up it bed, her face a picture of horror. She curled into a little ball and shivered, her mouth still hanging open. She stayed like that for several minutes, until finally an idea hit her. Abruptly she sat up in bed, climbed out and crept to the inn door as quietly as possible.

She shivered when the cold winter air hit her face, but she managed to shrug it off and begin to walk slowly down the street.

* * *

Damien stared at the inn door, wondering. That girl...was it really possible? He rubbed the stubble on his chin, then nearly fell over when the inn door opened and a small figure was framed in the doorway. She rubbed her arms, then headed down the street, the wind blowing her nightgown out behind her. 

The sorcerer's jaw dropped, then a smile curved his lips. _Too perfect._ he thought, slipping gracefully into the shadows.

* * *

Imoen paused when she reached the door to her old home. Pale and trembling, she stepped into the house and crept up to the table, the place she had found her mother. 

The child knelt down and sniffled, salt tears dripping out of her wide eyes. "M-mommy...I miss you." she said quietly, wondering if Frieda could really hear her. "Gerta and Dale are really nice, though. I...think you'd like them, mommy." she sat down and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth.

A shadow crept through the open doorway, a pair of bright blue eyes fixating on the shaking child. Damien watched, his fingers playing with a shard of glass in his pocket.

Imoen rubbed her eyes and continued, somehow convinced that Frieda could hear her. "A-anyw-way, I j-just wanted to...tell y-you that I'm ok, m-mommy."

Damien arched one brow, frowning. _What, is she insane? She's talking to a chair, for goodness sake!_

"I'll n-nev...never forget...you...ehh..." the girl's eyes fluttered rapidly, then she slumped backwards as Damien clutched the glass spell component and weaved his magic. He grinned from ear to ear and picked Imoen up, cradling her almost gently as he crept out into the street.

* * *

Twister the imp yawned, revealing rows of spiky little teeth. "So, kid, why're you so special?" 

Imoen, curled into a fetal position, stared at the imp with a mixture of curiosity and horror. "Wh-what?"

"Well, you're here for a reason, obviously. So...why're you here?"

"I...d-don't know..."

"Twister! Stop chatting and come here!" Damien's whiny voice sounded from the other room.

"Chatting?! Who does he think he is?!" the imp muttered as he flew to his master. Imoen watched him go, then walked to the room's only door and peeked out.

"You're supposed to be at Candlekeep with the other one! Why aren't you there?!"

"You have this one! Why do you need two?"

"Two Bha-hey! Get back in your room, brat!"

Imoen squeaked and scurried back to her corner, trying to block out the argument in the other room.

"Get back to the bloody library and _bring me that kid!_"

"Fine, you don't have to yell! I'M NOT DEAF, Y'KNOW!"

Damien clutched his ears and grimaced, muttering curses at the annoying imp as Twister vanished in a cloud of smoke.

* * *

Karl ground his teeth together in frustration, reading over the last few passages of the book. Gorion, seated several feet away and reading a small book, looked up. 

"Having trouble?" the mage said sympathetically, rising from his chair to approach the boy.

Karl unclenched his fists and nodded. "It says that Chauntea, Kossuth, Malar, Mielikki, Silvanus, Talos, Auril, Eldath, Lurue, Nobanion, Shiallia, Talona, Ubtao, and Ulutiu are all gods and goddesses that a druid can worship, but...it doesn't say how someone should decide..."

The name 'Bhaal' abruptly crossed Gorion's mind, but he brushed it aside, and took a seat next to his ward. "There is a reason for that, Karl; you see, a druid worships the god that is of like mind and heart with him."

"But...er...what?"

"Well...for example, Talona is often refferred to as the 'Lady of poison'. If you were someone who used poison and diseases as a main attack, you might choose to worship Talona."

Karl blinked. "But...why would I ever use poison on someone?"

The mage frowned, mentally berating himself for using that example. "You probably wouldn't. So...what do you enjoy about the arts of druids?"

"Uh...I like learning about them...does that help?"

"Yes, a little. What do you enjoy learning about? Was there something that really captured your attention or excited you, perhaps?"

Karl bit his lip and concentrated. "Well...I like learning about the elements...and I liked calming the mouse."

Gorion smiled, liking the boy's answer. "Well, then, that narrows down your options. But, keep in mind, you don't have to serve a god, Karl."

He hesitated. "Oh...well...I'd still like to learn about them."

"I see. In that case, I'll tell you about some of he kindly ones; Kossuth is the fire god, so his powers have to do with flame and heat. Talos is the lord of the storm, so he obviously uses electricity. Auril is the goddess of ice and cold. Shiallia is the lady of the woods, glades, forests, those kinds of things. Somewhat similar to her is Eldath, who is the goddess of the peaceful places, like groves and lakes."

Karl listened intently, trying to wrap his mind around the different deities. Abruptly he interrupted Gorion, remembering something from the temple. "Gorion...I remember an alter to a god or goddess who's symbol was...a skull, I think...surrounded by tears...or maybe it was blood..."

The mage stiffened, feeling a growing sense of alarm.

"Do you know what god that was?"

There was a long moment of silence, and Karl began to fidget. Finally Gorion sighed. "Do you remember anything else about the alter? Any...talk about it, or sacrifices?"

He blinked, frowning. "Er...one time I remember someone putting some sort of bag on the alter, but that's all...why?"

"Well...it sounds that an alter to Bhaal." Gorion picked his words carefully, now walking a fine line. "He is a dead god, killed by a mortal man many years ago. Bhaal was the god of murder, fear, hatred, those sorts of things."

"Oh." Karl seemed thoughtful for a minute, digesting this information. "Why was I in a temple to Bhaal, though?"

The mage licked his lips and wracked his brain for an answer. "Er...your mother probably worshipped him."

"Oh." he said again, absently flipping through the tome before him. Suddenly he stopped and his eyes lit up, Bhaal completely forgotten. "Hey, I've seen this before!"

Gorion looked at the picture and his jaw dropped slightly. There on the page was a picture of a robed druid reaching out to a huge, majestic horse with a long horn. "A...you...have?"

Karl grinned as he looked at the picture. "Yeah! Outside of the temple, I saw one drinking from the river. It was..." he trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the unicorn.

"Perhaps what you saw was a horse. They look very similar, you know."

"No." he shook his head. "It had a huge horn, and its eyes were red. What is it?"

Gorion leaned back and stared at the Bhaalspawn boy. He had seen _a unicorn_? Unicorns were rare enough, and for one to reveal itself to a human..._ No, he must have been mistaken. A unicorn would only reveal itself to someone utterly innocent or- oh. _"How old were you, Karl?"

"Um...really little, I think. It's one of my first memories..."

"I...see. It is called a unicorn, a very rare and magically creature. Few people have ever seen one."

"It was so...beautiful..." the boy breathed, lost in the memory.

Gorion cocked his head to the side and smiled slightly, an idea forming itself. "You know, Karl...there is a goddess called Lurue, the queen of unicorns and talking beasts...would you like to hear about her?"

He nodded furiously, eyes shining, and Gorion began to talk. Neither of them noticed the pouting little blonde-haired girl near the staircase, watching Karl with an almost hungry expression.

* * *

Sarevok was knocked unceremoniously to the ground by a burning ray of magic. He gasped and squirmed, reaching for his dropped sword as another volley of missiles rained down on him. 

Reiltar, watching off to the side, couldn't help but be impressed; the Bhaalspawn had taken numerous hits, yet he was still alive and kicking. The Iron Throne leader watched closely, prepared to end the practice battle whenever Sarevok stopped moving.

Sarevok rolled away as a weak lightening blast hit the ground inches from his arm. He cursed the pain, cursed his opponent, and cursed his wretched mentor for initiating this mock battle. Another blast of lightening knocked him back to the ground, but this time he just gritted his teeth and rolled with the blow, springing to his feet in time to avoid the next blast.

He raced forward, rolled away from another attack, and continued towards his adversary. Reiltar grinned widely at the display, pleased by the boy's endurance.

"Excuthe me, thir." Reiltar turned to face a short, balding man.

"What?" he said crisply, keeping one eye on the fight.

"My mathter, Varth Devordar, ith inviting you to a pit-fight tonight at-"

"Vars? I he here?" The Iron Throne leader gave the man his full attention, ignoring Sarevok's cry of pain.

"Yeth, thir, he ith waiting in the-"

Vars interrupted Poggol, striding into the room with a swagger. "I'm here, old friend." he raised one brow at the sight of a young boy being pelted with magic.

Reiltar gave a half-smile, motioning for Poggol to leave the room. "So...inviting me to a fight, eh? What's this about?"

Vars chuckled. "Right to the point, eh? There's a Kara-Turan emissary who's going to be there. You've had...some fights with Kara-Tur, correct?"

Reiltar stroked his well-groomed beard and nodded thoughtfully. He called out for the fight to stop, then smiled at Vars. "Ah, I see. So...I help your publicity by attending, and in return you'll make sure I sit near this emissary?"

"Of course. A win-win deal, obviously."

"I see...very well, I think its a good idea for me to go." he turned away from the pleased Vars and faced a sweating, panting Sarevok. He ignored the boy's glare and spoke. "Tell you're teachers to postpone your lessons for tonight."

"Huh? Where are we going?"

"A pit-fight. Now, go prepare. Be back here in ten minutes."

Sarevok nodded and stumbled out of the room, ignoring the hot wave of blood sliding down his leg.

* * *

"Amateur fighters, yet amusing to watch." Reiltar commented to Sarevok. 

The Bhaalspawn boy nodded obediently, watching the fight expressionlessly.

Reiltar glanced to the side, watching a slender, dark-skinned man with black hair and almond eyes, and fingered a dagger. Below in the pit a dark elf, the city's new favorite gladiator, plunged his scimitar into a woman's stomach, then twirled away from a huge wolf's leap. Two more men were battling almost directly under Reiltar and Sarevok's seat, and off to the side a dwarf was crouched defensively with his back to the arena wall.

Imyrr sprinted away from the oncoming wolf, heading for the dwarf. This was a big fight, and no mages had put any domination spells on him. The dwarf's eyes widened and he hefted an axe, eyeing Imyrr's whip and sword expectantly.

Reiltar caught Vars' eye and nodded, signaling that it was time for a distraction; few would notice a dead Kara-Turan if the room was filled with smoke.

Vars nodded back, then signaled his wizards. Within seconds the entire room was filled with a foggy haze, and the surprised audience screamed their delight; this seemed like part of the fight to them.

Reiltar drew the blade and lunged forward, hitting the surprised man with a single, deadly blow. The scream went unnoticed in the crowd of cheering peasants and nobles, and within seconds Reiltar had pushed the body into the pit, knowing that no one would notice the body amidst all the gore and corpses.

Sarevok felt the sudden rush of air as Reiltar lunged, and he alone recognized the scream for what it was. He grimaced and shivered, looking in his foster father's direction.

A few more seconds passed, and then abruptly the smoke cleared. The gladiator's in the pit looked around, noticing at once that the wolf was lying dead on the ground. Vars paled when he realized one other thing; the Drow was gone.

The screaming mob did not notice the Drow's absence, or perhaps they thought he was lying among the numerous other bodies. Reiltar turned to Sarevok, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

"A good fight." he commented mildly, turning back to watch the gladiators.

Sarevok frowned, wondering which fight the Iron Throne Leader was referring to.

* * *

Bree wandered down the hallway, finally arriving at the room she shared with Poggol, and entered, her eyes already drifting close. 

Imyrr raced down the hallway, cursing when he heard the angry shouting of Vars and his numerous guards rapidly approaching. He grimaced against the deep wound in his leg, which was severely hindering his escape. Finally, unable to continue his mad dash, he turned a corner and ducked into the nearest door.

He was met with a shocked scream, and he whirled towards the sound with his blade and whip drawn.

The sight of the weapons only made Bree scream louder, and Imyrr, reluctant to kill the child, dove to her and clamped one hand over her mouth. "Silence, darthir!" she trembled as he ducked into the dark closet, pulling her in beside him.

"I-im? Why are you-?"

"Be silent, girl, or I _will _kill you." she nodded hurriedly and paled when she heard the yelling of the guards.

The door to the room was opened, and heavy steps entered. Imyrr's eyes narrowed and he gripped his sword tightly, his muscled body tensing for a spring. The door to the closet opened, and the Drow, silent and deadly, surged forward.

The guard started to cry a warning, but the Drow's hand clamped over his mouth and a bladed plunged through his stomach. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he slowly sank to the floor. Imyrr, no stranger to silent assassinations, guided him to the ground so his impact was noiseless and drew no attention.

Bree shrank back against the wall as Imyrr stepped back into the closet. The Drow spared her a disinterested glance, noticing too late the way her mouth opened and a shriek bubbled from her small yet amazingly loud lips.

He lunged forward, cursing in Drow, and once again covered her mouth. She continued her muffled screaming and squirmed against his grip. He growled and raised sword threateningly. Her eyes widened considerably, and she swallowed and held perfectly still.

Apparently her shriek had gone unnoticed, and soon the guard's footsteps faded away. "Do not scream, girl." Imyrr warned, pulling his hand away.

"Y-you...why d-did you...?" Bree whispered, staring at the corpse with horror.

"He was going to kill me." the Drow said off-handedly, pulling off his shirt to reveal a large gash. He inspected the wound, ignorant of Bree's paling face. He jumped abruptly when she bent to the side and vomited several times.

When she was done he spoke. "Where did you get the potion you gave me?" she shivered and looked at him blankly. He growled softly and tilted her chin up. "Where. Did. You. Get. It?" the threat, spoken in a slow and utterly calm voice made Bree pale again.

"I...I...V-vars g-gave it to m-me."

"Vars? The rivvil who owns this place? L' quar'valsharess xxizz uns'aa." he groaned in frustration. (May the goddess help me.)

She stared at him as he continued inspecting his wound. "M-maybe I could help you." she suggested in a quiet voice.

He glanced at her briefly, more annoyed than flattered by her offer. "No, now be silent."

"But you're hurt." she argued quietly, crawling forward. "I want to help."

He growled at her, warning the darthir to keep her distance. "Save your pity, wael, and be thankful you are alive."

She blinked again, confused. "What's a wael?"

He froze, then turned to her incredulously. This darthir was either very brave, very stupid, or suicidal. "What?"

"I've never heard that word before. What's it mean?"

"What are you trying to do, girl?" he asked suspiciously.

"Huh?"

"..."

"..."

"Never mind."

"Are you gonna escape?"

"..."

"Can I come with you?"

"..."

"How did you get out?"

"..."

"Does your cut hurt?"

"..."

"Why won't you talk?"

"Be silent. Now."

"Ok." she shrugged and leaned against the closet wall, yawning.

Imyrr blinked at her, then frowned and continued probing his wound. A few minutes of silence went by, and then a small, warm body fell against him. He stiffened and turned angrily to the sleeping Bree. She made a contented noise and snuggled against him, gripping his shirt and pulling it close.

"Dos shlu'ta'naut tlu ver'n." (You cannot be serious) he groaned, pushing her firmly but gently against the wall.


End file.
